Saturday, January 30, 2016

Processing...

I’ve been posting a lot on FB about what I’ve been going
through, doing to myself, which is covered in this short piece by one Doctor
Temes. Thereafter I’ve put the posts I put on FB because I want a more easily
accessible record of this…

“The effects of
unresolved grief can be serious and will prevent healing from taking place.
Unresolved grief will turn into delayed grief. The absence of mourning symptoms
is a warning signal. Denial is an unconscious psychological defense and
everyone uses some denial during his or her lifetime. Denial acts like an
aspirin, the ache is still there, but you do not experience it. When you use
denial, danger is not overwhelming and reality is not painful. You cannot
escape from your thoughts or your feelings, however, and they will stay with
you until you work them through and release them. The effects of delayed grief
can manifest into inappropriate grief reactions years later and it is likely
that the person will not know what is happening to them. It is at that time
that the delayed mourning process can begin.”

"Some individuals
think they must always be strong and in control. Should you fall into this
category of personality type, understand that in the grief situation it is actually
a sign of strength to express your emotions. It is essential that emotions be
released. Should your emotions not be released through words and tears, they
will find expression in other ways. Sometimes serious illness can occur when
the emotions and fears are not expressed."

Jan 24th

Right, it's nearly light enough now so I'm off for a walk
shortly as doing that yesterday was the start of me feeling better then. When I
get back I'll pummel my mind with some more photos prior to 2014, and I think
I'll begin writing about all that happened then.

Jan 26th

Fucking hell, who would have thought making yourself feel so
bad can make you feel so much better? I have always had a grimace on my face
upon hearing phrases like 'processing your grief' because it sounds like
psychobabble to me. My view has always been suck it up and grow a pair. But I
am always prepared to learn and, logically, all my mental problems come from
two years ago, and it appears likely that is because I locked it all down - I
did not deal with things then.

I've been processing my grief. I have been sitting, going
through old pictures of Caroline and our life together and trying to remember
every detail. It's little things that get me. Seeing a picture of her face and
remembering a small patch of thread veins there. Seeing her sitting in an
armchair. On the table beside her is a pot of yogurt and two pills - ginger and
turmeric. These are my attempt to DO something, because they're good for the
guts and claimed to be in some way preventative of cancer. Pathetic really in
the face of stage four bowel cancer.

I've smiled and laughed. I've cried and at one point ended
up on my knees on the floor doing so. I feel a sad nostalgia, tears still
waiting behind my eyes. But what I do not feel is depressed. Also, for now, the
anxiety has gone - that tightness in my chest and stomach has gone. My mind
seems to be working differently - things are falling into perspective.

On one of my recent posts someone put a little placard
'Unfuck Yourself'. I won't say that this is what I am doing because I've had
too many failures thus far. But certainly something is happening and, as with
the meditation, it feels like it might be good.

Later…

Okay, that's enough fucking catharsis for me today. With the
photographs I took a trip down memory lane. It sometimes made me smile, mostly
made me cry. Looking at video clips was a killer. Seeing her smiling at me as I
took a picture, well... Feeling wrung out from that I turned to writing. No
real structure, just stuff as it came to me about her death, circumstances
leading up to it and the aftermath. 2400 words thus far. Maybe when I'm done
I'll publish it on Kindle. Maybe it will be too personal.

Jan 27th

Okay, it seems that 'processing your grief' is an exhausting
exercise. I slept for 9 hours last night and right now I feel like I've been
put through a mangle. But it's cold and windy today so an hour and a half
walking in that should clear out the cobwebs.

Today I will do more of the same. I'll look at photographs
and I'll write 2,000 words about the lovely subject of watching someone die of
bowel cancer. This latter exercise I plan to be my lead-in to getting back to
writing fiction, if I don't fall apart first. I want my fucking life back.

Later…

Another 2,000 words done about what began 2 years and 7
months ago, ended for Caroline 2 years ago, but has continued for me since. I
realise that with all the walking, kayaking and swimming since her death, and
with other things occurring inside my head, this is something I have been
running away from. I'm not any more. I'm exhausted now after another day trying
to castrate my mental demons. But, again, I am neither depressed nor anxious.
So the demons aren't fucking me quite so much.

Jan 28th

Definite changes going on in my mind. The looking at
photographs and writing about Caroline's death and its aftermath leaves me
exhausted. The last two nights I slept, respectively 9 and 8 hours, which is
unusual for me. Last night nightmares woke me at midnight. No images and nothing
to relate to, just fear my mind groped around to find reasons for. I was
reminded of shortly after she died, when I had nightmares about losing her. I
would wake up and dismiss the nightmare because, well, that's all it was, then
a moment later would remember the reality. This morning I have the shakes, as
if I downed a bottle of whisky yesterday, but I drank nothing but tea.

I believe all this is having a positive result. Still no
depression or anxiety. I feel like shit but I think the positive here is that I
am feeling like shit about the RIGHT things. My fucked up emotions are now back
where they should be - not repressed or transferred.

I keep posting this stuff here because it is cathartic for
me and maybe for others in similar situations. This is also a reflection of me
not repressing things. I have had messages from people, including doctors and
psychologists, saying I am doing a good thing by posting this. If any of you
reading this find it uncomfortable - embarrassing - the answer is simple: don't
read it. Or maybe take a closer look at what might be going on in your head...

Later…

I'm onto week 5 of my 8 week mindfulness course. The new
meditation comes after setting yourself up with 2 previous meditations and is
called 'exploring difficulty'. Apparently it is at this point that many give up
the course. Anyway, I now know what my 'difficulty' is. However, in the
meditation I focused on what I previously thought were my difficulties. They
had some emotional weight and caused a physical reaction, which is what is
explored in this.

Then bam, out of nowhere, an image of Caroline in my mind.
The physical reaction was strong. I had a panic attack. It was as if some part
of my mind got irritated by my procrastination and delivered a message: 'Wake
up dickhead! This is your problem!'

Message received.

Jan 29th

Again I looked at photos last night and I finally wrote the
death scene - Caroline's death. I had to stop halfway through because I could
not see the screen. Thereafter I was in pieces for the rest of the evening.
Changes are still ongoing. I am now remembering her outside of looking at
photographs. Though I haven't felt depressed or anxious I have been having
panic attacks in the morning, if I stay in bed too long However, when I
remember her the attacks go away. This is a sign of ... something.

This morning I stood by the kitchen window remembering her
going to smoke a cigarette there, while she could still walk, the tartan
pattern 'comfy trousers' she wore doing nothing to hide her wasted legs. I
wonder if she was looking out at the view and saying goodbye to it.

Later…

Guess who I found down at Asda today? It was Neal Asher,
cynical and certain and ready to rip someone's head off. Apparently a phone
call in the morning had confirmed everything he had thought was happening to
him. Then, some straying from the other end of the line into raiki and
spiritual healing, had an amazing supernatural effect, because it resurrected
his inner bastard. I hope he sticks around.

And Later…

So anyway, I spoke to a grief counsellor and saw a therapist
today who both confirmed my problem: too much loss for which I have not
sufficiently grieved. There is no easy out, no way round it, no way to ease it
- pills, drugs alcohol or whatever just hamper or stop the process. The way to
stop suffering, is to suffer. I guess it can be equated to physiotherapy after
breaking a leg or something. If you want this to work, mate, then there's a
process, and it's gonna hurt. I am overjoyed ... no, really, well I will be
when I don't feel so knackered. There have been times this last year when I
felt, seriously, like I was going insane. Now I have the answer I have been
looking for for months.